I perched on the edge of the grand sofa, tail—I mean, my invisible tail—flicking like a metronome set to CHAOS. Today's assignment: mansion tour reenactment. I had a very serious duty. As the supreme overseer of all human antics, it was my job to document, dramatize, and judge. And maybe throw in a tiny amount of adorable commentary. Okay, a lot.
I dragged my tiny stage—a flattened cardboard box I stole from the storage room—into position. The mansion was huge, grand, and smelled like freshly polished floors and… Andrew. Oh yes, his honey pheromones wafted even through my imaginary cloak of professionalism. The vanilla-minty scent of Tina mingled, creating the most confusing, distracting, intoxicating storm of smells. I twitched my nose. Focus, Neko Neko. You have a job.
